


Farewell to the Dream

by Edlinklover



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edlinklover/pseuds/Edlinklover
Summary: Based on the second ending of End Roll. They asked each other questions, a game of catch and throw. But sometimes questions just don't have answers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic has been sitting in my notes slowly being worked on for a while now. I hope I didn't characterize anyone too oddly because by the time I finally finished this, I hadn't watched a playthrough in several weeks.  
> Also the title is a reference to a Putin P song because I couldn't resist.

    "Russell, do you think there's an afterlife?"

  
    Russell's breath catches in his throat at the question and he swallows hard, hesitating at an answer.

  
    The harsh sun beats down, pressing into him as if it is a threat. The cool grass he is laying upon serves as little comfort.

  
    "...No."

  
    He feels as if Gardenia is staring at him but he resists the urge to stare back.

  
    "Really? Huh! What do you think happens then when you die?"

  
    There's genuine curiosity in her voice, nothing accusatory. It makes him feel guilty for not wanting to answer her.

  
    "You just...die." he mutters, turning onto his side. "You don't become anything; you disappear, and it's like you never existed."

  
    He knows Gardenia is frowning at him; he expects no less.

  
    "I hope that's not what happens," she says.

  
    "...And why's that?" He doesn't really think as he asks.

  
    Hearing the rustle of grass, he raises his eyes to see Gardenia leaning over him.

  
    "Because if you die, I'd remember you for sure! And so would everyone else. I mean, I think once you've existed, it's impossible for the world to forget so easily."

  
    Russell considers these words before shutting his eyes, unable to bear staring at her for much longer.

  
    'I wish it would.'

  
    Those are the words he wants to say, yet they live and die in his thoughts soon forgotten. "...If you don't think that's what happens, then what do you think does?"

  
    "That's a good question!"

  
    At how strangely cheerful she is at such a dark topic, he has to wonder what prompted this conversation in the first place.

  
    "I think we go somewhere nice. Someplace like heaven but not; I don't want it to be as perfect as people say it is."

  
    For the second time, he asks, "Why's that?"

  
    "Because if my meat pies came out perfect every time, where's the fun in that?"

  
    A weak smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "They're already pretty close though.."

  
    Gardenia laughs and the sound pleases him; the fact he could make her laugh, if only for a moment.

  
    "They're nowhere near as good as my Dad's but it makes me happy you think so!" With a determined look, she proceeds to clench her hand into a fist. "Oh, but they will be one day!" Her gaze falls slightly, "I just gotta practice a whole bunch, that's all."

  
    Russell doesn't say anything for a while.

  
    Perfect; he begins to consider it, a term for something unattainable.

  
    "Perfect," he says, this time aloud. This draws Gardenia's attention, a curious stare. "It's just a concept isn't it? People always describe things as perfect when really, it doesn't exist." A shadow passes over his face.

  
    "A perfect family, perfect friends, a perfect life--not any of those."

  
    He stares up at the sky, blue and wide; more vivid than the one he knows in the real world.

  
    "I don't understand why people try so hard for what they can never have."

  
    For a while, there's only the sound of the wind, of the rustling of the melting trees and his own breath. A cloud passes in front of the sun and they're shaded beneath.

  
    "Perfect is up to the person's opinion."

  
    Russell blinks, having not expected an actual response. He sits up, looking over at Gardenia. Her eyes are shifted to the side, raised in thought.

  
    "See, y'know, like my dad's cooking; I think it's perfect! But he always tells me he has a long way to go. I didn't understand what he meant when I was little but I do a bit now!"

  
    Their eyes meeting, she frowns. "Maybe that wasn't the best example...but something perfect doesn't exist because that's just how humans are. But--" Her eyes shine brightly, "I think by trying to get there, it gets us as close to perfect as possible! Always trying to get better--that's why people live."

  
    Russell is silent, although his pessimism screams at him to protest, to tear every bit of optimism to shreds of nonsense the way it always did. 'Then what about my parents,' he wants to say, 'What were they trying to get better at?'

  
    Why did they keep living if they had nothing? Nothing but self-indulgence to feed on, clinging to life because death was full of the unknown? Is the moment they refused to change the moment they died?

  
    In some sick, twisted way, maybe his killing them had been an act of mercy.

  
    There's a prick in his heart, a feeling he's only become too familiar with.

  
    The question then hits him; is HE living? He knew he had been dead at the start of this experiment, with no hope of its success. Through this dream, ironically enough, was how he began to live. In the end though, it’s all worthless. He's back at square one, maybe square zero if that exists, since...

  
    Russell cuts off his train of thought before it spirals down any further. He had forgotten he had been talking to Gardenia and now she's waving a hand in front of his face: "Russell? Hellooooo--? Are you there?"

  
    With a few blinks prior, he lets a weak wave of his own follow. "I'm here."

  
    Relieved, Gardenia smiles. "Good! I thought you floated off somewhere and I'd have to drag you back here myself. Not that I'd mind even if I did have to! Except that I can't fly."

  
    The rest of her words warble as he focuses on only the last three words. He can see her twisted form, her bloodied face and her mouth shaping words that he had hoped he wouldn't have to hear again. It’s hard to breathe.

  
    "...Why?"

  
    Gardenia stops talking.

  
    Russell dares to meet her gaze. His guilt-induced delusion had already faded but in her stare remains a serious look, something knowing.

  
    Swallowing hard, he says his question, slowly. Deliberately. "About the afterlife...What made you ask that in the first place?"

  
    The delayed response sends his heart into a cycling race, the sound of it drumming against his ears. She smiles at him, but there's something wrong there hidden between the corners of her lips.

  
    Standing up as if in a daze, she clasps her hands behind her back, looking down at him. "I dunno. I just felt like it."

  
    Spinning on her heel, her yellow dress twirls about her until she rests with her back to him, her hair gathered in a low ponytail swaying back and forth as she begins to walk.

  
    Stopping, she doesn't turn around. She teeters on the dream's edge, the crumbling pieces of dirt being sent into the abyss by the tips of her shoes.

  
    "Hey, it's been fun, but it's getting late, Russell." She's leaning dangerously forward. "I should go now." Her image flickers from blood to flesh to herself again.

  
    The sky turns a blazing shade of red, words flashing and plastering into its clouds and into the atmosphere and the eyeballs from the nearby tree drip down and all look at him as if asking, "Are you happy? Are you happy now?"

  
    Gardenia has one foot dangling over the abyss, over the letters spelling out that nagging question: "Are you happy now?"

    "I'll see you later."

    She drops, as if the ground beneath her had never existed. There’s no sound, no scream. But the world splits, the images shattering and refracting colored light.

    The dream breaks.

    "Goodnight, Russell," is the last thing he ever hears.


End file.
